Chapter 495: I Too Am a Traveler

Chapter 495: I, Too, Am a Traveler

"I know we have no right to make any demands of you, but today, I’ll stake my very face on it to see these words through."

Jiang Wei averted his gaze, unwilling to meet Li Zhun’s eyes.

"Our foundation, Huang Liang techniques, and the false rites we’ve all endured—these despicable schemes have ensnared the corpse of the Wu Xu Sect like tightening nets, squeezing it until it’s cornered, until water and land offer no escape."

Jiang Wei let out a bitter smile: "Nowadays, who would choose the Wu Xu Sect? Gangsters, fugitives, marauders—all are the desperate, the outcast. Though they may slaughter dogs and cattle in the name of righteousness, anyone who dares to ascend the ranks would rather not be one of those butchers. Even if they somehow break through the barriers, their path is short, ending only in another innocent soul added to the pile of blood debts long overdue."

"You’ve forgotten my background, then? Or perhaps you wouldn’t dare say such things in my presence."

Li Zhun arched an eyebrow, cutting him off.

"I see you’ve forgotten who I am. If not, you’d think twice before speaking thus."

Jiang Wei’s lips curved slightly. "I’m listening because you showed respect to Su Elder by bowing before his grave, not by demanding payment at once. Otherwise, your fate would mirror that of the other."

Li Zhun’s voice was cold: "The Independent Rite—each step is a wasteland of corpses and blood. You wish to trade a worthless ‘righteousness’ hat for it? You underestimate the matter."

"And those elders behind you—if they resist, I’ll be waiting for them to come and fight. But if you resort to underhanded schemes, targeting those near me, then when I hunt down your Wu Xu Sect followers, it won’t just be other sects I’ll be cutting down. I want to test how many I can eliminate before I reach the third tier of the Independent Rite."

With that, Li Zhun turned and walked downhill.

After days of waiting by a tree for a rabbit, this was the outcome.

Had it been anyone else, their face would’ve remained unshaken, even if they dared speak boldly.

But Jiang Wei’s expression, unexpectedly, broke into a rare smile—relieved, as if a burden had been lifted.

"To be honest, I’d rather not sully my hands with such filth. But the elders see you as the Wu Xu Sect’s last hope. I have no choice but to endure this, for the sake of duty—heavenly mandates are no trifle."

Jiang Wei’s voice rang clear: "In truth, when the world was divided among sects, the path of the Independent Rite had yet to emerge. It was the Wu Xu Sect that forsook its own land, and it must reclaim it with its own hands. Martial artists don’t rely on fists or the malice in their hearts—they place hope in others. It’s a disgrace to depend on others’ strength."

Li Zhun paused, turning to face the tall figure standing in the trees.

"Since I became part of the Wu Xu Sect, all have called us the discarded heirs of its bloodline, valuing us only to shield you Independent Rite practitioners or to sharpen us as whetstones. I’ve heard such words too often, earmarked by them."

Jiang Wei plucked at his ear, smiling: "But I’ve never seen it that way. When our sect faced enemies, even you Independent Rite folk couldn’t have held out. They lost, and seeking excuses is pointless. I merely wish to tell you, the path to the Wu Xu Sect’s rise isn’t yours alone to walk—I, too, am a forerunner."

"I care nothing for rise or fall."

Li Zhun’s words cut through the rain.

"But your bloodline has chosen this path—enter or die. There’s no turning back for anyone now."

Jiang Wei’s smile faded, his tone solemn: "Though our paths differ, we face the same perilous storm. Bite your tongue, freeze your teeth—take care, old master."

With that, Jiang Wei turned, leading the Wu Xu Sect followers toward the opposite slope of the valley, walking away from Li Zhun.

"Wu Xu Sect has such people? Rare indeed."

Li Zhun watched their retreating figures, his words unfinished, when Zhang Bi’an approached, his face grim.

"What happened?"

"They reported no trace of any brothers’ kin among the demons sent to deliver the message."

Zhang Bi’an’s once-sleek white hair, now cropped short, lost its former elegance, revealing a ruggedness that spoke of hardship.

"Where are they now?"

"Fu County."

The dog mountain town in the Wa region, under the Ministry of Public Works.

"You’ve refused my visions of Huang Liang dreams three times now, you little brat—do you seek to overthrow the established order?"

An old, resolute voice echoed in the hall.

Yang Baize, now the regional magistrate of Dog Mountain, sat upright, glancing at the officer standing at the door, then turned his attention to the figure presented by Xu Zhang.

"I couldn’t refuse your invitation, Master. Affairs here have been too pressing to spare time."

Yang Baize sighed, uncharacteristically flustered, folding his official cap’s tassels and resuming his scholarly appearance.

Despite his resentment, he maintained the proper demeanor before Master Pei.

"Stop making excuses. Even a small town like this, without the armor-clad guards, those Wa invaders—already stripped of spine and bone—couldn’t cause much trouble, could they?"

Pei Xingzheng scoffed coldly, looking at Yang Baize’s bowed posture, feeling a pang of nostalgia.

"I know you still harbor regrets about that day, but even if I sent you to Kyoto, what would you do? Explain righteousness to those Buddha and Taoist elders? Tell them martial rites are dead, and now they’ll divide the world into Buddhist and Daoist realms?"

Pei’s patience wore thin: "To speak persuasively, you need either authority to distribute benefits or the power to make others sit and listen. Without either, Kyoto will only add to your burden!"

Yang Baize stood firm: "I know all this, but choosing to act or not isn’t so simple."

"Others go to great lengths, not just to no avail. I’ve done what I could for Li Zhun’s Dog Mountain households—it’s his debt to us, not ours to him."

Yang Baize shook his head, voice low: "Master, it was you who saved them, not me. Li Zhun owes you, and I owe him too."

"Why complicate it with brotherhood when it could be settled by exchange? What’s with this stubbornness, you little brat?!"

When Zhang Bi’an, ever watchful, heard this, he couldn’t help but smile.

Not just the words—he knew this scene well.

Once, when Pei Xingzheng stood where Yang Baize now stood, he’d been the one receiving such reprimands.

Heroes cling to duty, stubborn children cling to sentiment.

Scholars know this is the gravest error, yet generations scold successors, and successors learn from predecessors.

Such is the way of master and disciple.

"I think you’ve lost your wits, child."

Pei’s voice dropped, his pride stilled: "If guilt still gnaws at you, there’s a chance to atone."

"What chance?" Yang Baize’s face brightened.

Pei noticed his expression shift, his creased eyes twitching.

"This time, the civil service exams for the new policies in the Bandit Region—you rank among the top three in hundreds of young officials. Though not first, your reputation grows."

Pei spoke gravely: "Our scholarly advancement rites value ‘fame’ and ‘rank.’ Your fame is established. Once the scheming nobles settle down, I’ll move you to a better post, return you to the imperial mainland. After a few years of refinement, you’ll ascend to sixth rank."

Yang Baize’s face fell, his enthusiasm dimming.

"How could you still be so restless, you brat? Sit still and listen."

Pei snapped: "Li Zhun’s a disaster waiting to happen—he brings chaos wherever he goes. He’s already retreated to the mainland, and after his acts of kindness, he’ll seek vengeance against Su Ke, knocking on every door. If he stirs trouble, where’s the chance for you to help?"

Yang Baize finally grasped Pei’s meaning, eager to ask: "Where will you place me? Sichuan Chengdu, Jiangxi Guangxin, or the Sand Lantern Temple grounds?"

"Those three posts are mere enforcers. Li Zhun, even now, won’t grasp their nature. And they’d never let you meet me in Chengdu—you’d only meet your end."

"Where then?"

Pei exhaled slowly: "Huatong."

"Xu Haichao?" Yang Baize’s face darkened.

"In the Kyoto War, Xu Haichao never appeared, yet he aided Zhang Fengyue as a strategist. That’s his first crime."

Yang Baize frowned: "Xu Haichao’s still in the Wa region. Li Zhun could kill him there for vengeance. Why send me to Huatong?"

"With such a monumental achievement, Xu Haichao wouldn’t linger in a magistrate’s post. Once the Wa region becomes the Ying Prefecture, he’ll secure a better position."

Pei sneered: "And with your brother Li Zhun’s temper, do you think he’d stop at just Xu Haichao? Huatong is your opening move—a foothold to show him who to kill and how."

"Many thanks, Master!"

At this moment, every knot of resentment in Yang Baize's heart unraveled completely; he cupped his fists and bowed deeply to Pei Xingjian.

"Enough now. Only just learned to call me Master? I'm nothing but a cold-blooded, ruthless, detestable old man—I won't waste Lord Yang's precious time any longer. I'm off!"

By the time Yang Baize lifted a face burning with shame, Pei Xingjian's figure had long since vanished.

All that remained was Xu Zhun standing by the door, exchanging a knowing smile with him.